


ↄ—double feature—c

by sonshineandshowers



Category: Prodigal Son (TV 2019)
Genre: Angst, Bad Things Happen Bingo, Gen, Wrongfully Arrested
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-04-05
Updated: 2020-04-05
Packaged: 2021-02-28 23:41:13
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,534
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23485462
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/sonshineandshowers/pseuds/sonshineandshowers
Summary: Malcolm starts the day getting arrested and ends the day on house arrest with his mother. Gil is not pleased dealing with the Whitly family special.For Bad Things Happen Bingo prompt Wrongfully Arrested.
Comments: 13
Kudos: 29
Collections: Bad Things Happen Bingo





	ↄ—double feature—c

**Author's Note:**

  * For [ProcrastinatingSab](https://archiveofourown.org/users/ProcrastinatingSab/gifts).



It takes Malcolm until almost noon to enter the precinct. Gil pulls him into his office when he has the _gaul_ to go straight for coffee. He shuts the door behind him before he chastises him, "Civil disobedience, Bright?"

"It's not wrong,” Malcolm defends, his hands in the air. He has bruises around his wrists from fidgeting with the plastic handcuffs.

"You work in a _precinct_ ,” Gil doesn’t hold back his disgust.

"So? It's still not wrong,” Malcolm counters, not backing down. He puffs his chest out, trying to look bigger, trying to grow the extra six inches to look at Gil eye to eye.

But Gil just shakes his head. Gives him that look of disappointment that cuts through to his core, leaves behind a carving he remembers on nights he can’t sleep — every night. “Go home."

"I'm not — "

"So help me — _dammit_ that's an order!" Gil bellows, pointing at the door.

Malcolm stops talking and looks between Gil and the exit. The red letters beckon him. The E gives him an extra boost to get his feet moving, the X slides down and covers his mouth, the I points him in the right direction, and the T closes the door with a hearty thwack on the way out.

* * *

Once he starts walking, Malcolm’s on autopilot. Goes back to the West Side Highway where he was arrested that morning. Keeps walking north, north, north, far surpassing his daily movement goals. Pounds every frustration through his feet into the concrete and pavement until the whole world around him stops.

Hobbies, get them, Gabrielle had told him time after time. He started spending his free time in immigration court. Profiled the common faces of judges, lawyers. Inspected every piece of the array of emotions that crossed the revolving door of defendants’ faces. Thought maybe if things had gone differently with Eve, she might’ve been sitting beside him, or up front trying to fight for justice with him in back silently cheering her on.

He knew the activity didn’t exactly fit what Gabrielle would define as a hobby, so he kept a lot of it to himself. He was basically still working, but in another setting. She wanted him to give his profiling brain a rest — he wanted to find ways to keep using it more so he could give his head enough to do to sleep.

He started joining protests on the courthouse steps, then upgraded to human chains in the street. They blocked the West Side Highway at rush hour, turning a main route in the city into a parking lot. Malcolm smiled when the officer told them they’d be taken into custody if they didn’t disband. His eyes widened with adrenaline that maybe they’d be helping make a difference with the level of press that would ensue.

The news called them a nuisance repeat performance. The most attention he’d garnered that day was Gil chewing him out.

He walks harder, further. Gets cursed at when he doesn’t pay attention and crosses the street in front of a turning car. Forgets about anything that’s not walking. Nearly falls through a loose grate over a storm drain.

He feels buzzing against his leg, takes his phone out, and it shakes in his hand. “Hello,” he says, his mouth feeling dry at the words.

“Where are you?” Gil’s voice hurries out.

“I’m not sure.”

“Bright — “

“I don’t know.” He stops and takes a look around. “Yonkers.”

“What’d you take, the train?” Gil’s surprise rings in his ear.

“I went for a walk.”

“Bright — “

“Gil — “

“I’m in your loft. I need you to put yourself in a cab _now_ and come home,” he rushes without explanation.

“Gil — “

“It’s your mother. Whitly family special,” he comments under his breath. “Come.”

* * *

Malcolm calls his mother in the back seat of the cab and gets voicemail. “Long trip,” the cabbie tries to make conversation, but Malcolm shares a wayward smile and ignores him.

Malcolm texts Ainsley next. _Have you heard from Mom today?_

 _Got called in to cover breaking news — can’t do this right now_ , she replies.

He looks out the windows, wondering what his mother is up to.

* * *

Gil meets him in the entryway of his loft, door open. “They arrested your mother this afternoon.”

Malcolm’s eyes fly wide and his hand rushes to his forehead. “On what grounds?”

“Attempted murder of your father.” Gil had dropped everything as soon as he had gotten word and arrived to an empty loft when he had come to get Malcolm.

Malcolm’s face fell. “She didn’t do that.”

Gil looks at Malcolm like he’s inspecting every inch of Malcolm’s face for clues. “I know. You want to tell me who did?”

“Gil — “

Gil holds his shoulder, trying to get information out of him that he’d long left unsaid. “I already know the circumstances. I can take a guess at the rest. But I’d rather you tell me.”

“Gil — “

He squeezes, conveying the importance. “Bright, _please_.”

Malcolms fingers curl into fists that shake at his sides. “He _told_ me to stab him. _Goaded_ me to. Held it over our heads that he would hurt my mother.” His fists wave back and forth near his hips, ready to attack anything that looks like a threat, even a wall.

“He’s not the one who called it in.”

Malcolm stool still, confused, head tipped to Gil. “Who did?”

“Endicott. Produced a tape with your mother’s face. Let’s go.” Gil closed Malcolm’s door, guiding him downstairs to the car and getting him moving before he can punch anything.

“You’re kidding me.”

“The one and only.”

“She’s in danger.”

“Already have her in sequestered holding ’til we can straighten this out,” Gil reassures.

“It’s not good enough.” Malcolm pounds open the door to outside with his fist.

They cross the street to get into Gil’s car. “We’re going back there now. As soon as you give your statement, we can have her out. If her lawyer hasn’t taken done that already.”

“Cuff me, do whatever you gotta do — she lives,” Malcolm practically throws himself on the sword.

Gil gives a light shake of his head in disbelief that Malcolm would question his ability to watch out for _both_ of them and be melodramatic at the same time. ”I’m gonna protect your mother, Bright."

“I’m going to jail?” His seat is still warm.

Gil starts the car. “No. But actions have consequences. You’re getting a pretty hefty timeout.”

Malcolm glares at him, not bothering with a response. 

“What were you _thinking_?” Gil shakes his head at him in disappointment for the second time that day.

That he could save everyone? That he was invincible? Malcolm holds off any answer, knowing none of them will appease Gil.

They pass one of the news station buildings to his sister’s and mother’s faces plastered on the electronic billboard.

“Your mom’s not gonna be very happy about that,” Gil comments.

Malcolm mentally prepares to face his mother's wrath behind bars.

* * *

They enter the precinct to Jessica walking out. “Dani tells me you got arrested. _Arrested_.” Jessica hits the front of Malcolm’s jacket with her handheld bag.

She keeps walking out, and they need to turn around to follow her and catch up. “Mother — “

“Those foolish officers never checked the timestamps on that footage against the files. All fabricated!” she expresses to Gil.

“Jessica — “

“That vile sonuva— “ Jessica stops when Gil grasps her elbow.

“Let me take you home,” Gil offers. 

She pulls back. “I can call Adolpho.”

“Please. As a precaution,” Gil negotiates. “This has to do with Endicott.”

“Not your father?” She looks to Malcolm, and he shakes his head. “I’ll kill him myself.” She stomps her heel.

“Maybe lets get off the precinct grounds before you say that, Mother,” Malcolm advises.

They all get into Gil’s car, and Gil almost has her home when she presses a contact in her phone. “ _Ainsley Whitly,_ “ she seethes, looking at another electronic billboard out the window. “You tell your bottom feeder of a boss to get my picture down _now_ or I will sue her muckraking ass into _2040_.”

By the time they pull up to Jessica’s house, Malcolm’s sleeping in the back seat.

“He’s being such a _child_ today,” Jessica comments, getting out of the car.

Gil defends him, “I was insensitive with him so he walked to _Yonkers_ , and then he was ready to go to _jail_ for you but you’re chewing him out same as always. If anything, that makes us bad parents.”

“Which one of us gets to carry him inside?” Jessica jokes.

Malcolm bolts upright, hitting his head on the window, and rolls himself out of the car. “I’m awake,” he insists.

“Take him inside,” Gil directs. “Stay put. I’ll get a car posted at the house until we know what’s going on. I’ll be back in a little bit.”

“Gil, what? No,” Malcolm objects, spinning around from where his mother has already started to follow the instructions. “I wanna go home. You can’t put me on house arrest.”

“Actions have consequences,” Gil smiles, and he watches to ensure they make it safely into the house before he leaves to go sort out the mess at the precinct.

* * *

_fin_


End file.
